Adrian Pearson - Cow Country

“…Though truth be known, the ranch in those days was not much of a ranch at all. In fact, it was not much more than a simple pasture with a few sheds where the cows were herded into large swaths of territory and where they were able to roam. The herds roamed freely and then, when the time had come to be culled, they were rounded up and herded into the cattle chutes where they were marched efficiently toward the slaughter grounds one after another. This too, you see, was more efficient than how it used to be done….”

“…From there it is all written in the history books. The ranch formed around the ranges where the cattle roamed. The town formed around the ranch. And the community college — our beloved Cow Eye Community College — was formed to serve the town that had been created. In time the college grew and the campus was built and the swimming pool was constructed. And all of this became the Cow Eye Community College that we know and love. In fact, if this were a traditional historical treatise it would end right there. If this were the history you find in school books, the history of our college would end with the black cow grazing happily in the pastures of the Cow Eye Ranch. But there is one important thing that we’ve forgotten along the way. There is one thing that has been overlooked….”

*

“What’s that, Mr. Smithcoate?”

Bessie and Raul and I were leaning forward over the cafeteria table to hear the rest of the story.

“What has been overlooked, Mr. Smithcoate?” we asked. “What has been overlooked in your telling of the history of the world?”

Will looked at us solemnly.

“Simple,” he said. “The red cow.”

“The red cow?”

“Yes. While the black cow was acquiring the desirable traits that would make it the ideal meat for meat-eaters and the ideal milk for milk-drinking, the red cow was still standing on that hillside observing the trajectory of our world.”

“It was?”

“Yes. And standing there on the hillside, the red cow saw the unfolding of historical events across time and space. This cow, with its untamed horns, witnessed the advent of the plow and how it was used to subjugate the once-proud oxen of his time. It witnessed the invention of the printing press and how it allowed for better coordination of the slaughters that were held over the centuries. Advances in shipbuilding allowed for more cows to be transported across the ocean in their own excrement. Technologies in farming allowed for greater expansion of areas for the farmer to plough. All of this was progress for the farmer, if not for the cow….”

“…And from its vantage point this recalcitrant cow also observed the wars that were fought with the most modern technologies. And it witnessed the diseases vanquished and invoked. It saw the oceans conquered and the skies tamed. The rivers dammed and plains trammeled. There were railroads to build and factories to construct. Each of these things was witnessed by the unassuming cow. And each of these things was progress….”

“…And so it was that the simple cow saw the progress of the world from mankind’s earliest beginnings to the technological wonders that abound. The innovations. The efficiencies. The continuous improvements and feats of ingenuity that have made the culling of his offspring so much more inevitable. From the cradle of man’s civilization to the consecration of his greatest monuments, the cow was present for it all. And all of it, it seemed, was progress….”

*

“And then, Mr. Smithcoate? And then what did the cow see?”

*

“…And then the cow saw the invention of modern weaponry. The nuclear reaction. Chemical warfare. He witnessed the falling bombs and mass exterminations. The genocide. The ecological devastation. The polluted rivers and politicized skies. The damming. The droughts. The demise of earlier peoples at the hands of those who came later. All of this he witnessed with the blades of straw dangling from his mouth. All of this he witnessed from his lowly vantage point at the top of the hill….”

*

“And then, Mr. Smithcoate? And then what happened?”

“Well, and then the cow went back to his grazing.”

“That’s it?”

“Of course. It’s just a cow, right?”

“Well, yes. But there has to be something more! So what happened then?”

“Well then I slumped against the table in the cafeteria where I was found the next morning by a former student…”

“And that was the end of history?”

“For her, yes.”

“And it was the end of the world?”

“Not exactly. From there I was taken in an ambulance across time and space to this lonely hospital room in the city. I was taken here and given medications that made me sleep until the moment I opened my eyes and saw Charlie. You see, since the beginning of time, everything that has ever happened is one perpetual chain of progress — an unbroken series of inspirations and discoveries — leading from the vacant fields of our beginnings to the achievements of modern life. From the darkness of first night to the car ride the three of you just experienced. From the apple to the celery stalk. From the first seed ever sown to the forkful of jell-o that Charlie is now readying to put into his mouth…”

Self-consciously, I put the jell-o back onto my plate.

“….You see,” said Will, “every single event in the history of mankind — every technological invention, every progeny of progress — has conspired to bring the four of us together in this cafeteria. History has culminated in the four of us being here today. The apex of history is here and now; it is this crowded hospital lunchroom where the three of us are sitting at this table: Bessie sipping her tea, Raul doodling on his napkin, and Charlie placing that piece of jell-o into his mouth. We are, in the here and now, the ultimate culmination of the many miracles of history…”

“We are?”

“Yes, you are.”

“And the woman over there discarding her empty Fritos bag?”

“Her too.”

Bessie took another drink of her tea.

Raul crumpled up his napkin and threw it onto his tray.

“The world,” said Will, “ends at this singular moment in time and space. It ends with the four of us. For we are the climax of history, the culmination of mankind’s story, the ultimate consequence of it all….”

In the cafeteria, the sun had now descended well beyond the salad bar.

I placed the forkful of jell-o into my mouth and swallowed it down.

*

After lunch, an orderly — a white one this time — came back down to wheel Will back up to his room. Bessie gave Will a long hug before he left. Raul patted him on the shoulder and said, “Take care, professor. We’ll see you back at Cow Eye when you’re better.”

Then it was my turn for words.

“Okay, Mr. Smithcoate,” I said. “I’ll see you soon. Sometime in the very near future no doubt….”

“Future?” said Will.

“Yes, the future.”

Even then I understood that it was probably the wrong thing to say to him. But it was all that I could think to say.

Will grunted. I shook his hand, which was very soft — almost lifeless — and made my way back to the car where Raul and Bessie were already inside waiting.

*

“What time is it?” I asked Raul.

“It’s well after two, Charlie. In fact, almost three. The party will be starting in three hours. It’s a six-hour drive back to Cow Eye. Now what do we do?”

“Simple,” I said. “We drive very fast….”

From there I sped along the streets of the city, overtaking the taxi cabs and delivery trucks, out to the on-ramp, onto the highway, out past the suburbs of the city, out past the exurbs. As expected, the daytime traffic was intermediate algebra and as we made our way, Raul informed me of our temporal challenge with ruthless efficiency.